The first week after Daniel’s death passed in a haze. Mira moved through her days like an automaton, her mind unable to grasp the enormity of her loss. Friends and family surrounded her, offering kind words and casseroles, but their sympathy only deepened the hollowness inside her.

Her husband, her anchor, was gone.

By the time of the funeral, she had perfected the mask of composure. She stood at the graveside, holding herself together with the sheer force of will that had always been her strength. But inside, she was unravelling.

Her dreams, once vivid and surreal, had gone dark. Even her nightmares refused to come.

In the days that followed, Mira found herself withdrawing from everyone, retreating to the sanctuary of her home. She threw herself into small, mindless tasks—cleaning, organizing, anything to keep herself busy. Yet the silence in the house was deafening, an oppressive reminder of everything she had lost.

Kael waited, watching from the periphery of her life. He kept his distance, biding his time, careful not to push too hard too soon. When Mira finally returned to work, her presence was a shadow of what it had been. The spark in her eyes was gone, her sharp mind dulled by the weight of her sorrow.

He seized his moment carefully, catching her in the break room one afternoon as she stood staring blankly at the coffee machine.

“Mira,” he said, his voice soft but firm enough to cut through her daze.

She turned to him, blinking as if surprised to see him there. “Kael. Hi.”

“I just wanted to say,” he began, his tone measured, “that I’m sorry for your loss. If there’s anything you need... well, I’m here.”

Her lips pressed into a faint, polite smile. “Thank you. That’s kind of you.”

Kael nodded, keeping his expression neutral. “I mean it. Sometimes, talking to someone who’s... less familiar can help.”

Mira hesitated, her eyes searching his face. He didn’t push, letting the offer hang in the air like an unspoken promise.

That night, as Mira sat in her quiet home, Kael withdrew to his sanctum. The question of Daniel’s death still gnawed at him, a splinter in his otherwise flawless plan. He had manipulated fate before, bending it to his will when it suited him, but this... this had been unexpected.

Kael closed his eyes, reaching out into the unseen currents of the world. He searched for the threads that had snapped, unravelling Mira’s life and leaving her vulnerable. What he found was disconcerting.

The threads were frayed and chaotic, as if several forces had acted upon them at once. Fate’s hand was present, yes, but there was something else—something darker, more deliberate.

Someone had intervened.

The following week, Mira began to accept Kael’s small gestures of support. He approached her with care, offering quiet companionship rather than the smouldering intensity he had shown in the dream world. She started to open up, sharing pieces of her grief in tentative, halting words.

But Kael wasn’t the only one paying attention to her.

Late one evening, as he watched her from a distance, he felt it—a ripple in the fabric of reality. A shadow moved in the corner of his vision, and Kael’s entire body tensed.

“Show yourself,” he commanded, his voice low and dangerous.

A figure emerged from the shadows, cloaked in a darkness that seemed to devour the light around it. The air grew heavy with an oppressive energy, and Kael’s eyes narrowed as he took in the intruder.

“You’re meddling,” the figure said, its voice a rasp that scraped against the edges of reality.

Kael’s smirk returned, though his eyes remained cold. “And you’re interfering in what doesn’t concern you.”

The figure chuckled, a sound like grinding stone. “Fate doesn’t tolerate interlopers, warlock. You should know that by now.”

Kael stepped forward, his presence flaring with power. “If you think you can take her from me, you’re welcome to try.”

The shadow’s laughter faded, replaced by a tense silence. “She’s not yours to claim. Not yet.”

And with that, the figure disappeared, leaving Kael alone under the weight of its warning.

Mira was no fool. As her grief ebbed, replaced by a sharp, simmering anger, she began to notice things that didn’t add up. Kael’s sudden appearance in her life, the uncanny way he always seemed to know what to say, how to act.

Then there were his eyes—those piercing, otherworldly amber eyes that seemed to see straight into her soul.

At first, she dismissed her suspicions as the paranoia of grief. But the more she thought about it, the more the pieces began to fit. Kael had shown up at work and in her dreams shortly before Daniel’s death. He’d inserted himself into her life with a practiced ease, weaving his way into her fractured world.

Her heart ached with the weight of her loss, but her mind remained sharp. And so, Mira began to hatch a plan.

Kael, unaware of her suspicions, continued his careful courtship. He was patient, gentle, never pushing too hard. Mira’s small smiles and tentative conversations gave him hope that he was breaking through her walls.

He didn’t notice the way her eyes lingered on him, calculating and cold when she thought he wasn’t looking.

One evening, Mira invited him over to her home under the pretence of gratitude. “You’ve been so kind,” she said, her voice trembling just enough to sell the act. “I thought… I thought I could repay you with dinner. As a friend.”

Kael, blinded by his yearning, accepted without hesitation.

Her house was dimly lit, the table set for two with a modest meal. She poured him a glass of wine, her hands shaking as she placed it in front of him.

Kael’s heart swelled. This was progress. This was trust.

As they ate, Mira steered the conversation toward Daniel, her voice thick with feigned vulnerability.

“Sometimes, I wonder if it was an accident,” she murmured, her eyes downcast.

Kael paused, his fork halfway to his mouth. “What do you mean?”

She looked up at him then, her gaze sharp and accusing. “I mean… sometimes, it feels like someone wanted him out of the way.”

Kael’s expression faltered, the mask slipping for just a moment. Mira saw it—the flicker of guilt, or perhaps something deeper.

Her heart pounded in her chest as she reached under the table, her fingers closing around the hilt of the knife she had hidden there.

“I think that someone is you,” she whispered.

Kael’s eyes widened, but before he could respond, she lunged. The blade sank into his chest, piercing his heart.

For a moment, there was silence, broken only by the sound of Mira’s ragged breathing.

Kael stumbled back, clutching the knife embedded in his chest. Pain radiated through him—not the physical pain of the wound, but the searing agony of betrayal.

“Mira…” he gasped, his voice thick with anguish.

She stood before him, her face a mask of fury and despair. “You took him from me,” she spat. “You destroyed my life. And now, you’ll feel the same pain I felt.”

Kael sank to his knees, the weight of her words crushing him. Blood seeped from the wound, but it wasn’t mortal blood—it shimmered like liquid gold, glowing faintly in the dim light.

“I didn’t kill him,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I would never…”

Mira’s hands trembled as she stepped back, her resolve wavering. “You’re lying,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.

Kael looked up at her, his amber eyes filled with tears. “I loved you,” he said, his voice breaking. “Everything I did… it was for you.”

The wound began to close, the blade pushed out by some unseen force. Kael’s immortality would not allow him to die, but the pain in his chest—the agony of her rejection—was something no magic could heal.

He rose unsteadily to his feet, his gaze never leaving hers. “You’ve made your feelings clear,” he said, his tone hollow. “I’ve lost you. I see that now.”

Mira watched, frozen, as he stepped back, his figure seeming to dissolve into the shadows. When he was gone, the knife clattered to the floor, leaving her alone in the empty house.

Would you like to explore Mira wrestling with the truth about Kael’s innocence or delve into Kael’s descent into despair and how he might try to win her back—or walk away for good?